


Growth

by Artemis1000



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times, F/F, Fluff, Mention of Padme/Anakin/Obi-Wan/Satine, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Pregnancy, baby luke and leia, force pregnancy, non-graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: Five times during Satine Kryze's pregnancy that Padmé Amidala offers her comfort.Or: when the Force conspires to give them the happiness they deserve but the galaxy keeps getting in the way of domestic bliss.





	Growth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rachaelizame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachaelizame/gifts).



**9th week**

Theirs hadn't been auspicious beginnings.

They had been friends, they had been partners-in-crime, allies in the Senate and in the fledgling alliance against the newly declared Emperor. Theirs should have been the perfect beginning.

It would have been, if they hadn’t found another in their grief for the men they had loved, for the galaxy they had known, for the entire belief system of right triumphing over wrong that their world had been built on.

Theirs had been a love born of drying another’s tears and confiding their hurts in hitched whispers, of having this loved woman they could be weak with before they put on a brave face again for the rest of the galaxy.

Maybe they would have found another anyway, maybe two couples of two would have become one group of four anyway; the longing glances, the lingering touches had been there, that sense of something _almost_ becoming more – there had been no time to explore this _more_ before things fell apart for the four of them, and only two were left.

Now here they were, Padmé having been called into the medbay. Satine had gone for a checkup after being plagued by nausea for days. It had made for a very _interesting_ lunch with the Organas yesterday.

And here she was, trying to make sense of what she had been told. It hadn’t really gotten easier to comprehend on the second or third or even fourth try.

Padmé took a deep breath, her eyes wide in disbelief as she let her gaze wander from Satine, who still looked nearly as shell-shocked as Padmé felt, to the med droid and back again.

“Are you serious?” she asked the droid once more.

She bobbed her head, six hands fluttering to point at the readouts on the screen. “I have run the tests three times, Senator Amidala, the results are conclusive. Duchess Kryze is pregnant and you are the other biological parent.”

Considering she had been married to a man immaculately conceived by the Force, it should not have left Padmé so gobsmacked.

It did anyway.

“I… need to sit down,” she choked out and sat on the med berth next to Satine.

“Don’t pass out on me, Padmé, leave that for the birth,” Satine said wryly, wringing a chuckle out of Padmé despite how shocked and wan she still felt.

“How is that possible?” she asked the woman she loved, never mind that she looked just as confused. She knew for a fact that Satine hadn’t undergone any treatment to conceive a child, though they had often talked about how nice it would be to give Luke and Leia a younger sibling. They had agreed it would have to wait until the Empire had fallen, it was too dangerous to bring another child into this violent world.

“I don’t know,” Satine said, unsurprisingly. She looked down and placed a hand on her belly.

Right there before her eyes, Padmé could see Satine pull herself together with all the poise befitting Mandalore’s Duchess – exiled Duchess now, on the run as a hunted enemy of the Empire but as dauntless as ever. Padmé had always known her bravery, though being a pacifist many people didn’t see her strength, only her refusal to pick up a weapon.

“I don’t know how it happened,” Satine said, her voice firmer, “and if it involves the Force, which seems to be the only explanation the med droids and doctors can think of, then chances are I won’t ever understand how it happened.” She met Padmé’s eyes. “But this child is ours now. We…” She looked down at her belly, brows knitting. For just a moment Padmé could read in her face how frightened she was but Satine was Mandalorian steel through and through and she permitted herself only this moment of fear. “It’s not the best time to have a child. But we will protect this baby. If you want to do this with me, that is.”

“Satine?”

She looked up, a hint of a frown still showing on her face. “Hm?”

Padmé smiled. “Did I tell you today already that I love you?”

 

**15th week**

Padmé Amidala groaned as the beeping of the alarm clock relentlessly yanked her out of her peaceful sleep.

“Five more minutes?” a sleepy voice mumbled into her ear.

“You know we can’t,” she murmured, yet pointedly didn’t make a move to get out of bed.

These days, _bed_ more than often didn’t mean the comfortable large beds she had known on Naboo or on Coruscant, but rather hard and narrow cots on some out-of-the way hideout of the budding Rebel Alliance. Today was one of these days, yet Padmé wouldn’t have traded it for all the luxuries of the palace in Theed.

She spat out a mouthful of pale-golden hair and nuzzled the back of Satine’s neck, while her arms snaked around Satine’s waist, hands folded over her rounded belly. They were just in the early second trimester, in that stage when morning sickness still lingered but your belly hadn’t gotten big enough yet to make movement awkward. These were the days they eagerly awaited baby’s first kicks.

“How’s the baby?”

Every time Satine’s hand flew to her belly, Padmé kept thinking this would be the day she felt the first little flutter within her. Padmé still remembered the excitement well from her pregnancy with Leia and Luke, she couldn’t wait to share this experience with Satine.

Satine only answered with a “grmpf,” which told her all she needed to know about today’s state of morning sickness. Padmé chuckled softly as Satine reached for the crackers she always kept by her bedside and started grouchily nibbling on one. Their med droid had promised eating some before getting up in the morning would help, not that Satine was very impressed with the effects.

Once she had finished her cracker, Satine turned around – a little clumsily already – and faced Padmé. She looked solemn as she studied Padmé’s face in the wan morning light that filtered into the room. They were lucky that this base sported actual windows, a luxury in their new life as enemies of the Empire.

“In five more minutes I’m going to curse morning sickness and you, but right now I just want you to know that there’s nowhere else I would rather be,” Satine said solemnly.

Padmé thought of Mandalore, of all the things Satine had had to leave behind to openly stand against the Empire and to openly stand with Padmé and felt her heart skip a beat – it always did, every single time, she didn’t think she would ever reach a point when she would take her second chance at happiness for granted.

Padmé tucked a strand of hair behind Satine’s ear. “There’s nobody else I would rather be with than with you.”

Satine cradled the back of Padmé’s head and pulled her close, into a gentle, lingering kiss.

Padmé groaned, pressing herself close to Satine, her own hand slipping into her lover’s sleep-tousled hair.

 _Five more minutes_. It was a small allowance they could grant themselves before they had to go out there and be the brave and fearless leaders the galaxy needed.

 

**28th week**

On the whole, Satine and Padmé worked well together. They were both passionate believers in rule of law and in diplomacy being more powerful than armies, they believed that every being should enjoy the same rights and freedoms.

So far so good.

Then there were the differences, rifts which ran not only through their relationship but through the entire fledgling coalition against Palpatine. There were the pacifists like Satine and Bail, and the believers in proper procedure like Mon who wanted the battle for democracy to be fought in the Senate, while rebel leaders such as Padmé and Saw sided with those who said the time had come for more _aggressive_ negotiations.

Most of the time they were able to work together well enough, each doing their part for the resistance and coming together at the end of the day in the knowledge that they were fighting for the same better future.

Then there were days like today…

They stood face to face, their faces angry, flushed from an argument which had started civil and turned increasingly louder.

“Force, Padmé, can’t you see that you’re repeating the mistakes of the Republic?!” Satine snapped, the flexi she held nearly crumpled in her grip. “You’re going to drag us all into another war! It will only serve Palpatine!”

“And you would rather we keep our heads down and wait for what?” Padmé scoffed. “For the Empire to go away on its own?”

“Violence begets violence and I’m not going to stand for a circle of violence! That is no longer Mandalore’s way!”

“Then maybe you should return to Mandalore and see what the Empire is doing to it! Because last time I checked there wasn’t a trace of your pacifism left there!”

Satine looked stricken for a moment before her shoulders straightened, head held high in silent, dignified indignation. “Mandalore…” she started with gritted teeth, and then her hands flew to her belly and, “Oh…!”

Padmé’s eyes widened. “Satine, are you okay? Do you need a…” She trailed off, torn between asking if Satine was feeling the baby again or if she needed a bin, though it had been a while since the last bout of morning sickness.

Before she could decide on one question, she was cut off by Satine’s laughter and a shake of her head. “No. No! Here, touch my belly! This kick was so strong, I’m sure you can feel it now!”

Satine took her hands and pressed them against her rounded belly. There was only the lightweight material of her plain dress between Padmé’s fingers and her bare skin, she could feel her body warmth through it. She re-positioned Padmé’s hands a little until she gave a satisfied nod.

“Wait for it…”

They both waited with bated breath, holding another’s gaze all the while, their earlier argument forgotten amidst the shared excitement. They had been waiting so long for their baby’s kicks to become strong enough that Padmé would be able to feel them.

“There!” she gasped. There it was, indeed. A flutter beneath her fingers, nearly unnoticeable, and then a more distinct movement against her fingers – a familiar sensation from her own pregnancy with the twins, there could be no mistaking what it was.

Padmé laughed, she laughed through the tears prickling in her eyes and kept laughing when Satine pulled her into a hug as tight as they could manage with her ever-growing belly between them, and she was still laughing when their hug turned into a kiss.

“I felt her,” she whispered against Satine’s lips when they broke the kiss to gasp for air but still lingered, lips against lips.

“Maybe,” Satine whispered back, the smile audible in her voice though Padmé was too close to see it. She could have sworn she felt the upwards curve of Satine’s lips against her own.

“Maybe,” Padmé agreed coyly.

They had chosen to keep it a surprise – albeit this time, they had been very clear to the med droids that they did wish to know how many babies they would be having. There would only be one, which was a relief between a restless pregnancy on the run and already having one pair of twins to take care of.

Before their heated argument had them standing in a face-off, they had been sitting on the small couch. Satine sat down again now and patted the cushion next to her with an arch rise of her eyebrows and a small teasing smile to take the sharpness out of it.

It was the only invitation Padmé needed to sit with her. The core of their argument remained yet she had lost the desire to fight. They could go back to talking politics later. For now, she slipped an arm around Satine’s waist and pulled her closer, sighing in contentment when Satine leaned against her shoulder. It left her perfectly situated for Padmé to fold her hands on her partner’s belly.

“Hoping for baby to kick again?” Satine murmured.

“Of course.” She chuckled. “She’s mine. She’s not going to be satisfied with one good hard kick.”

“I would believe it.”

Padmé buried her nose in Satine’s neatly coiled hair and let herself bask in her smell, her body warmth, just in this moment of being together – all three of them here, with Leia and Luke napping just in the next room, safe and sound, and nearby.

Another, “Oh,” from Satine warned her before she felt movement against her fingers. She laughed as she felt their baby kick again, a firm, solid kick right against her palm.

She kissed her girlfriend’s neck, then her jaw, her lips, smiling all the while. “Sorry, Satine, I believe we have a little fighter on our hands.”

“There are many ways of fighting, Queen Amidala, you know that just as well as I do,” Satine reminded her, yet it sounded far more teasing than like an actual retort to Padmé’s ears.

She smiled, kissing Satine again. This child would have the best of both their worlds, she promised herself and the little life she could feel against her hands.

 

**32nd week**

“If this child isn’t born soon I’m going to suffocate… or just keel over from the extra weight!”

Padmé wisely hid her smile behind her hand as Satine plopped gracelessly into the co-pilot chair of their shuttle, one hand rubbing the small of her back and groaning all the while.

“The med droids said breathlessness is perfectly normal at this stage,” Padmé reminded her, still fighting her smile.

It wasn’t funny, being heavily pregnant. She remembered very well how unfunny that was when you were the one feeling like a beached whale. It was just… This was Satine. Satine who was always in control, always perfectly poised, not one hair out of place, even when she was running from Death Watch assassins.

“And your waddling is adorable.”

Satine’s glare could have halted a whole brigade of said Death Watch assassins. “You’re lucky I don’t believe in violence, Amidala!”

“Of course, dear,” Padmé said far too cheerfully and lifted them into the air.

It wasn’t often that they traveled without even a single bodyguard but this delicate diplomatic mission had required them. Sometimes it took a show of trust to make people listen to you, and Satine being pregnant had actually worked in their favor. There were few, even among the rougher people in the galaxy, who would slam the door shut in the face of a heavily pregnant woman.

Satine would normally be helping with liftoff, she was a capable pilot and had grown only more skilled since they had to live their lives on the run. Out of the corner of her eyes, Padmé watched her just sit there slumped in her chair.

She chewed on her bottom lip and worried quietly. All jokes aside, this wasn’t like Satine. She had looked fine while they were talking to the Senator but that was a given, much like Padmé herself, she would never let on weakness when politics required a show of strength.

Padmé took them into hyperspace by herself and then she perched on the armrest of Satine’s chair, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. “How about no more diplomatic visits until the baby’s born?” she suggested quietly.

Satine grumbled a little but she didn’t protest as such. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ready to have this baby.”

“Soon. I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

Satine tensed against her, her hands clutching at Padmé’s robes while she gave a low, pained groan.

Padmé made a dismayed noise as she stood up to give Satine more breathing space, running cool fingers over her forehead. “Again?” she asked in sympathy.

It wasn’t labor yet, after the third or fourth scare they had come to trust in that, but the false contractions were a pain in themselves. Padmé herself had been lucky not to suffer from them often but they kept plaguing Satine at the most inconvenient moments.

Satine met her eyes, jaw clenched, and nodded sharply. “Again.”

Padmé ran her fingers soothingly through Satine’s hair. “Not much longer now.”

It really was time that they took a break from fighting for democracy, just until their new baby was born.

 

**40th week**

Against all expectations, Satine Kryze didn’t resort to threatening Padmé with murder when she went into labor.

There had been a betting pool on it, too; Padmé knew a whole slew of rebels would be losing money – to her, for she had known better. Satine wouldn’t resort to threats of violence. Satine would be more creative – and vicious – than that.

“I don’t care if the Force’s to blame, I’m going to sell you out to the Emperor,” she hissed with what strength she had left, panting and gasping for air between contractions and somehow still finding the strength to glower at Padmé, and try her best to break her hand.

Remembering the twins’ birth, Padmé just smiled and wiped a damp washcloth over Satine’s forehead.

Today, the birth of new life wouldn’t come hand in hand with mourning loved ones or the Republic. Today, it was simply a day of joy, even if Satine wasn’t looking very joyful at the moment.

“Breathe now, panting breaths,” the gyn droid reminded her.

“You heard the doctor, love,” Padmé murmured.

The next wave of contractions hit before Satine could hiss any more creative threats.

Padmé remained at her side through this new wave and every one that followed, a steady, supportive presence while Satine worked to birth their child. The atmosphere in the medbay was calm, the droids attentive but relaxed, the occasional visitor peeking in full of giddy excitement. It was a far cry from the desperation that had clouded the air when Padmé birthed the twins.

When the baby’s first cry rang out loud and clear, a fighter’s cry, Padmé laughed and then cried, but these were all happy tears, growing even happier when Satine’s sobs joined hers.

They waited impatiently for their child to be cleaned and examined and then the gyn droid returned, holding a swaddled little bundle with blue eyes and dark hair.

“Congratulations, Duchess, Senator, you have a daughter.”

“Shae,” Satine murmured. It was the name they had chosen for a daughter. A Mandalorian name for a girl, a Nabooian for a boy.

She snuggled against Satine’s breast as if she had done it a thousand times before. Padmé laid down with them on the edge of the bed, running a finger over the tiny little head and the tiny little cheeks while Satine marveled at the little fingers.

When the twins had been born she had been fighting for her life and to stay with her children. Her memories of the birth were a blur. This time, Padmé was aware of every little breath their daughter took, of every breath Satine took. Of the way she reached for Padmé, her hand still shaky with exhaustion, but her grip on Padmé’s hair surprisingly strong as she pulled her down into a kiss.

They were both laughing breathlessly as they parted and then Shae gave a whimper, followed by a cry as hearty as her very first one.

Satine smiled as she ran a finger over Shae’s tiny soft cheek. “I think we can say for sure that she won’t go unheard in life.”

Padmé chuckled and kissed Satine’s sweaty brow. “Of course not. She’s got that from her mothers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Baby Shae is named for Shae Vizla, an ancient Mandalore who united the clans in desperate times. I like to think that Clan Vizla is the predecessor to Clan Viszla, and thus naming her baby for their Mandalore the Avenger is an olive branch extended by Satine.


End file.
